


Never Let You Go

by Blue_Blurr



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Cute, Fluff, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Blurr/pseuds/Blue_Blurr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins give Jazz an experiment they found in Wheeljack's lab, telling him it was high grade. Only, it was definitely NOT high grade, and now Prowl has to deal with and overly affectionate Jazz. </p>
<p>As it would turn out, the usually stoic tactician is much more okay with this than anyone would have thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing; all rights go to their respective creators.
> 
> "normal conversation"  
> ::conversation over comm. links::

     Ratchet was going to _strangle_ Perceptor and Wheeljack. The duo had left yet another one of their experiments out where the twins could get their hands on them, and the result was currently making a mess out of his medbay.

     “I llloooooove you, Prowler,” Jazz’s sing-song voice came out muffled from the tactician’s chestplates. Once again, Prowl futilely shoved against the saboteur, trying to dislodge him from his frame, only to come to the resigned conclusion that Jazz had an unbreakable vice grip, even when drugged to his visor.

     “Jazz, please let me go,” Prowl sighed, earning himself and even tighter hug.

     “Nope, never. Ima’ never let you go, Prowlie. That’s a promise!” Prowl did his best to try and school his embarrassment, but the sudden flare from his optics gave him away. Ratchet let a small smile reveal itself, despite the obnoxious mess that the two had made when Prowl brought Jazz down and the medic made the mistake of trying to separate the two mechs.

     “T-thank you, Jazz, but would you please let Ratchet examine you for a few breems? You are acting rather strangely today,” The saboteur nuzzled his helm further against the tactician.

     “But then I’d have to let you go! I can’t do that, Prowler, I just promised you!” shifting his helm to stare into Prowl’s faceplates, Jazz put on his most sparkbreaking expression. Prowl’s battle computer whirred to life trying to come up with a solution. Ratchet took pity on the already stressed mech, who had yet to even get himself cleared by medical after returning from his mission; instead he’d had to discipline the twins and deal with Jazz, who had been demanding to see his tactician since the drugs kicked in.

     “How about you let me look at you, and Prowl will hold your hand the whole time? That way I can check you out and you don’t have to break your promise?” The saboteur didn’t look convinced. Ratchet dialed the dramatics up a notch.

     “It’d give me a chance to look at Prowl too; he still hasn’t had his post-mission check-up, and it looks like one of his doorwings is jarred a bit,” not exactly a lie; Prowl’s doorwing was most definitely dislocated, and that just _had_ to hurt like hell, but Ratchet also knew the second in command would not complain about it. However, in his current state, Jazz would do it for him.

     “Prowlie’s hurt?” Jazz’s optics blazed comically bright from behind his visor, “You’re hurt? Why didn’t you tell me? Let me look!” Jazz, still unwilling to let Prowl go, climbed further into the mech’s lap and grasped clumsily at his injured doorwing.

     “J-jazz, I’d appreciate it if you did n-ahh!” the mech cried out when something audibly snapped inside his wing. Jazz pulled his servos back as if they’d been burned, but glanced down at them after registering a wet heat coating them. Energon dripped almost musically from his thin digits.

     “Prowl?” he whispered. The tactician had shuddered his optics and tensed his frame, his lips pressed tight together to keep silent. His frame began to shiver.

     “I’m okay, Jazz. Let’s just let Ratchet check us out, okay?” His optics onlined, though they were dimmer than usual –a tell-tale sign of pain. Jazz climbed off of him and curled up away from the tactician as the medic began to take samples from the drugged mech, and prod gently at the other’s injury.

     “Jazz,” the saboteur shook his head.

     “I hurt you,” he replied in an almost-whisper.

     “You didn’t hurt me. I’m going to be okay,” Jazz still didn’t stir, “but I am a bit afraid; Ratchet has to reset my doorwing.” Jazz’s whole demeanor changed rapidly –a side effect of the drug, Prowl reasoned.

     “Do you want me to hold your hand?” he asked, now almost giddy.

     “Yes, please,” Jazz gently gripped Prowl’s servo in his own, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the knuckle joints in a soothing way.

     “I loooove you,” he giggled. Prowl’s barely hidden embarrassment lit the entire medbay blue for a brief click.

     “I l-love you too, Jazz.”

* * *

 

 

     Having someone pop your limb back into place turned out to be much more painful than Prowl had anticipated, but luckily Jazz was there, ghosting both his palms over the aching wing, letting subtle vibrations lull the pain away. It was the most relaxed the tactician had been in vorns. Ratchet almost hated to interrupt their peace. He hesitated a click before clearing his vocalizer to get their attention.

     “I’ve talked with Wheeljack and Perceptor, they say that the drug will make its way out of Jazz’s symptoms by morning. Prowl, your injuries are repaired, but you still need rest. You are both out of active duty until the next orn at the very least. You are free to leave.” They didn’t need to be told twice, as Jazz eagerly pulled Prowl up off the berth they were sitting on and led him out the door, chanting “thank you” until it slid closed. Ratchet sighed and looked around his medbay, again wondering just why, out of all the things they could have possibly made in a time of war, Perceptor and Wheeljack thought making a love potion was a good idea.

* * *

 

     “Where are we going?” Prowl asked when they exited the medbay. Jazz was already pulling him in the directions of the command staff’s personal quarters.

     “My room? You need to rest,”

     “But my berth is in _my_ room, Jazz,”

     “We could have a sleepover?” the saboteur’s features were filled with more hope than Prowl had ever seen the mech possess. It was endearing, sweet even, and utterly impossible to deny.

     “Alright. But I’m not recharging on the floor.” Jazz threw his arms up in excitement.

     “Of course not; we’ll share my berth!” Jazz was giggling again, and Prowl couldn’t help but smile at the scene. As the sun rose lazily overhead and the night crew began preparations for the shift change, Prowl and Jazz walked hand-in-hand through the thankfully deserted hallways before coming to a stop at Jazz’s door. Punching in the code to let them in, Jazz padded across the room with his tactician in tow, before gently urging him to sit on the edge of his berth.

     “I’ll grab some extra pillows, make yourself comfortable!” Stretching out carefully so as to not irritate his doorwing, Prowl was almost content when a call came through his comms.

     ::Ratchet to Prowl,::

     ::Prowl here,::

     ::Perceptor just told me something he forgot to mention about the drug earlier; it might wipe Jazz’s memory of what occurred since he took it,:: the tactician wilted a bit at the though and set his battle computer to figure out his options in that event.

     ::Thank you for telling me, Ratchet.::

     ::You’re welcome. Get some recharge. Make sure Jazz does too; it’ll help burn the remnants of the drug from his systems. Over and out.::

     ::Will do. Over and out.:: By the time he’d finished his conversation with Ratchet, Jazz had reappeared silently. Prowl was nearly startled.

     “Who was that?” he asked casually, adding more pillows to the berth before hopping up on it and snuggling up against Prowl.

     “Ratchet. Told me to recharge. Said you needed to as well,” strong arms enveloped the tactician and pulled him down until he lay gently on his side, facing Jazz. The berth creaked slightly as the third in command shifted closer until he could rest his forehead against Prowl’s, his arms circling the tactician’s waist and keeping them close together.

     “Well that’s fine by me,” Jazz purred with a wide, Cheshire grin. His yawn however, effectively killed the mood.

     “I love you,” Prowl yawned back.

     “I love you more!”

     “I doubt that.” Prowl knew what he felt for Jazz, knew how much he loved him, and wanted this drug induced farce to be a reality. Right now, Jazz loved him back, but Prowl knew it wouldn’t last, he was just being selfish; in the morning, Jazz would forget everything that had transpired, and things would go back to the way they were, with the two of them as nothing more than friends. Jazz snapped him out of that train of thought by pressing their lips together.

     “Hush now. I need to concentrate on never letting you go, like I promised.” The two mechs pressed closer together and slipped into recharge without another word. 

* * *

 

     Jazz awoke slowly from a surprisingly pleasing recharge cycle, feeling the warmth of another body pressed against his. Only Jazz hadn’t remembered going to recharge, and certainly didn’t remember going to recharge with another mecha. Onlining his optics in a hurry, he took in the still-recharging form next to him. Black and white plating, doorwings, -one twitching somewhat fitfully, he catalogued- police decals, red chevron: _Prowl_.

     His shifting in the berth woke the other mech up; his optics onlining slowly. The sight was beautiful, and Jazz would be lying if he said he didn’t want to wake up to it more often. Blinking his optics into concentration, Prowl’s gaze met his own.

     “Good morning, Jazz,”

     “Mornin’ Prowler,” and they stayed like that for nearly three breems; just laying, limbs still entwined, staring into the depths of ear other’s optics before Jazz mustered up the courage to ask the question that had blazed in the forefront of his mind since he’d onlined:

     “Not that this isn’t nice, Prowler, and I mean it’s very nice, but why are you in my berth?” Blue optics flickered elsewhere, breaking their mutual gaze. Jazz suddenly wished he hadn’t asked. With a sigh, Prowl began to recount the previous day’s actions.

     “The twins gave you a drink yesterday, do you remember?” It came rushing back to him: Sunny and Sides, a blue drink, thinking he’d had bad high grade, and then…nothing.

     “Yes, mostly. What happened?” Prowl’s optics stayed stubbornly away from him, despite the rather intimate position they were both in no rush to get out of.

     “It was Wheeljack’s formula. Perceptor’s been helping with it. It was some kind of love drug,” the saboteur groaned, wishing he could curl up and disappear.

     “What did I do?” he dreaded to ask. Prowl cleared his vocalizer and stared anywhere, at anything that wasn’t Jazz.

     “You demanded to see me. I came and found you as soon as my mission was over. We went to the medbay to see Ratchet, but you would not let go of me and when he tried to separate us, you - or more accurately, we- trashed the medbay. Eventually you let Ratchet look at us, my doorwing was repaired, and we came back here for a “sleepover” you called it,” That’d explain the twitching from earlier. Jazz carefully untangled one arm and reached his palm towards the injured wing, activating the vibrating pulses from before and soothing the pain away.

     “Anything else?”

     “You told me you loved me, and I said I loved you back” _three times_ , “you kissed me,” _it was everything I’ve ever wanted_ , “and promised me that you’d never let me go.”

     “Oh?” It was a lame reply and Jazz knew it.

     “Yeah,” _Frag it_. Jazz needed to know.

     “And if I told you I loved you, kissed you, and promised to never let you go right now, would you believe me?” Prowl’s optics flicked back to his own, making Jazz’s spark swell in his chestplates.

     “I would. And I’d tell you I loved you back, and that you mean everything to me; you always have.” With that, Jazz’s hands moved to cup Prowl’s faceplates and pull him in for a kiss much longer and far less chaste than the one they’d shared the night before. 

* * *

 

     “Where are Sunny and Sides now?” Jazz asked, lazily drifting his palm over Prowl’s healing wing.

     “The brig, where they shall remain until next orn, why?” Prowl muttered sleepily from his position; sprawled on his stomach plating on Jazz’s berth, with the saboteur laying on his side next to him.

     “I was thinkin’ maybe we ought to let them out early,”

     “They _drugged_ you –the third in command- with one of Wheeljack’s formulas, and given our engineer’s propensity for explosives, you could have easily blown up instead! I already am being lenient with their punishments; Ironhide would’ve seen them court marshaled,”

     “But they did, technically, get us together,” Prowl groaned, “Please? You know you can’t resist this face!” flicking his optics over to Jazz, Prowl saw the same look from the night before, and was again unable to deny him.

     “I will consider it,”

     “Thank you, Prowler!” Jazz leaned down and pecked his tactician on the chevron.

* * *

 

     The twins were released a few breems later, to the astonishment of everyone, including themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been meaning to get more into writing since graduation. Hopefully, this is the first of many future fics to come, and my writer's block lifts soon. Based of a random RP generator where I got the prompt "love potion."
> 
> In hindsight, some parts of this might have turned out a bit creepier than I intended. Nothing in this fic was supposed to be noncon, the drugging was more of an accident (the twins did not know what they actually took from Wheeljack), and there was supposed to be a clear, albeit secret attraction between Prowl and Jazz that was revealed because of the accident.
> 
> (on a separate note, this is the longest fic I've published, finally surpassing the awful first fic I wrote)


End file.
